THE SON THEY BURIED WAS THEIR ONLY HEIR

Chapter Nine: The Unseen Divide

Benedict closed the door to his room without another glance at the envelope resting inside his jacket.

The butler's voice had carried an urgency that allowed no delay.

He walked briskly through the quiet corridors of Ashcroft Manor until he reached Victor's study.

The door was already open.

Victor stood beside the window overlooking the estate, his hands clasped behind his back.

Without turning around, he spoke.

"Come in."

Benedict stepped inside and closed the door gently.

"You wanted to see me, Chairman?"

Victor nodded.

"I've just received a call from the Board."

He turned slowly.

"The East Coast Transit Project has attracted more public attention than expected."

Benedict listened quietly.

"The directors believe Damian should begin representing Ashcroft Group at selected public events."

Benedict smiled.

"That's a good opportunity for him."

Victor studied his face.

"You don't object?"

Benedict seemed genuinely surprised.

"Why would I?"

"It will help everyone become familiar with the future of the company."

Victor held his gaze for a moment.

There it was again.

No jealousy.

No disappointment.

Only wholehearted support.

For reasons he couldn't explain, Victor felt strangely uncomfortable.

The following morning, Ashcroft Group Headquarters buzzed with activity.

Employees hurried through the marble lobby carrying files and laptops.

Large digital displays announced the afternoon's press conference, where Damian Ashcroft would make his first public appearance as a member of the company's executive leadership.

As Benedict and Damian stepped out of the elevator, several employees applauded softly.

"Congratulations, Young Master Damian."

"We're rooting for you."

Damian smiled politely, but the encouragement only increased the pressure weighing on his shoulders.

Inside the executive office, he loosened his tie and let out a slow breath.

"I don't think I'm ready for this."

Benedict placed a folder on the desk.

"No one ever feels ready the first time."

Damian looked up.

"Were you?"

Benedict chuckled softly.

"My first presentation lasted three minutes."

Damian blinked.

"Three minutes?"

"I forgot half my notes."

"And?"

"I apologized to everyone."

Damian laughed.

"What happened?"

"The Chairman asked me to prepare another presentation for the following week."

"You weren't fired?"

Benedict smiled.

"No."

"I was given another chance."

Damian shook his head.

"I can't imagine you making mistakes."

Benedict's expression softened.

"I've made more mistakes than you can imagine."

"The important part is learning from them."

Damian looked at him thoughtfully.

"You make everything sound simple."

Benedict smiled.

"It rarely is."

An hour later, Benedict stood at the podium in the executive conference room.

Today's audience wasn't the media.

It was Damian.

Along with a handful of senior executives who had volunteered to act as a practice audience.

Benedict stepped aside.

"Whenever you're ready."

Damian walked to the podium, adjusted the microphone, and opened his prepared speech.

His hands trembled slightly.

He noticed it immediately.

So did Benedict.

But Benedict said nothing.

He simply gave a small, reassuring nod.

Damian took a slow breath.

Then he began.

"Good morning, everyone..."

His voice wavered.

He paused.

The room remained silent.

No one interrupted.

No one looked away.

After a brief moment, Damian found his rhythm again.

When he finished, the room erupted into applause.

Benedict led it.

"Well done."

Damian smiled with relief.

"I stumbled."

"You recovered."

"I forgot one paragraph."

"You remembered the message."

The senior executives nodded in agreement.

One of them smiled.

"Director Benedict taught all of us the same lesson."

"People rarely remember perfect speeches."

"They remember honest ones."

Damian felt some of the tension leave his shoulders.

For the first time since arriving at Ashcroft Group...

He believed he might actually belong here.

Just then, Benedict's phone vibrated.

He glanced at the screen.

The call came from Ashcroft Manor.

His expression changed almost imperceptibly.

He answered immediately.

"Yes?"

The voice on the other end spoke rapidly.

Benedict's calm demeanor vanished for the first time in days.

"I'm on my way."

He ended the call and turned to Damian.

"We have to leave."

"What happened?"

Benedict picked up his jacket.

"Your mother has collapsed."

The drive back to Ashcroft Manor felt unusually long.

Neither Benedict nor Damian spoke.

The black sedan sped through Aurelia City's afternoon traffic while Benedict calmly instructed the driver.

"Take the Riverside Expressway."

"It's faster."

"Yes, Director."

Damian glanced at Benedict.

Although his voice remained steady, he noticed Benedict's fingers were tightly interlocked on his lap.

It was the first visible sign of tension he had ever seen from him.

"Do you think Mother is all right?"

Benedict turned to him and offered a reassuring smile.

"I'm sure the family doctor is already there."

"But until we know more..."

"...there's no point frightening ourselves."

Damian nodded.

Yet the uneasiness in his chest only grew heavier.

When the car stopped beneath the entrance canopy of Ashcroft Manor, the front doors were already open.

The family physician, Dr. Harold Reeves, stepped out to meet them.

Damian hurried forward.

"Doctor!"

"How's my mother?"

Dr. Reeves smiled reassuringly.

"She's awake."

"Her blood pressure dropped suddenly."

"I've given her medication."

"She'll need plenty of rest."

Damian finally released the breath he had been holding.

"Thank God."

Benedict looked at the doctor.

"Did anything trigger it?"

Dr. Reeves hesitated.

"I believe it was emotional stress."

"Mrs. Ashcroft seemed... unusually distressed before she fainted."

Benedict frowned thoughtfully.

"Thank you, Doctor."

Upstairs...

Eleanor rested quietly against a stack of pillows.

Sophia sat beside the bed, gently holding her mother's hand.

Victor stood near the window, his face lined with concern.

The moment Damian entered, Eleanor smiled weakly.

"There you are."

Damian hurried to her bedside.

"You scared us."

"I'm sorry."

"I didn't mean to."

She gently brushed a hand across his cheek.

"I'm all right now."

A knock sounded at the bedroom door.

Benedict stepped inside carrying a tray.

A bowl of warm soup.

Fresh fruit.

Her evening medication.

And a small vase containing a single white lily from the garden.

"You should eat something, Madam."

Eleanor looked at him.

For several seconds...

She simply stared.

Her eyes slowly filled with tears.

Victor noticed immediately.

"Eleanor?"

She blinked quickly and forced a smile.

"I'm sorry."

"I suddenly remembered something."

No one questioned her.

Only Benedict noticed the way her hands trembled as she accepted the bowl.

That evening...

After Eleanor had fallen asleep, Dr. Reeves met privately with Victor in the study.

"I've completed her examination."

Victor looked up anxiously.

"Is there something you're not telling me?"

The doctor removed his glasses.

"Physically, she'll recover."

"But emotionally..."

"I'm concerned."

Victor frowned.

"What do you mean?"

Dr. Reeves sighed.

"Sometimes the mind remembers things we've tried very hard to forget."

Victor remained silent.

"I suggest you don't pressure her."

"If she wants to talk..."

"...let her."

The doctor packed away his medical case.

"Memories have a way of returning when we least expect them."

Meanwhile...

Benedict finally returned to his room.

The manor was quiet.

The long day had left him exhausted.

As he loosened his tie, his hand brushed against something inside his jacket.

The envelope.

He slowly removed it.

Its edges were worn with age.

The elegant handwriting on the back still read only two words.

For Benedict.

He turned it over thoughtfully.

Who had written it?

Why had it remained hidden for so many years?

He carefully broke the brittle wax seal.

Just then—

A loud crash echoed from downstairs.

Followed immediately by Sophia's frightened scream.

"Benedict!"

He instinctively slipped the folded letter back inside the envelope without reading it.

Throwing open the bedroom door, he sprinted toward the staircase.

In the grand foyer...

Everyone stood frozen.

A massive crystal chandelier swayed violently overhead.

One of its steel support cables had snapped.

Hundreds of glittering crystals rained onto the marble floor.

Servants hurried to shield Eleanor and Sophia from the falling debris.

Victor pulled Eleanor backward just as another section crashed to the ground.

The thunderous sound echoed throughout the mansion.

Dust settled slowly into the stunned silence.

Damian looked upward.

"If that had fallen a few seconds earlier..."

No one finished the sentence.

Benedict's eyes narrowed.

He didn't look at the shattered chandelier.

He looked at the broken support cable.

Then he walked toward it.

Ignoring the broken glass beneath his shoes, he crouched and examined the twisted metal fitting.

His expression gradually changed.

"What is it?" Victor asked.

Benedict stood slowly.

His voice was calm.

Too calm.

"This wasn't an accident."

The room fell silent.

"What are you saying?" Sophia whispered.

Benedict looked directly at Victor.

"The cable didn't break."

He held up the metal fitting.

Its edges were unnaturally smooth.

"It was cut."

Silence.

Complete silence.

Then...

Somewhere on the second floor...

The door closed very softly.

Someone had been watching.